


strumming in sand

by deniigiq



Series: finding the lost and losing the found [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Dragons, Family Dynamics, Friendship, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, Political Alliances, References to Depression, Team Bonding, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, as in being eaten by
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: Luke stood over the pile of metal and sand with narrow eyes. He appeared seconds from tapping his foot. And that was when Han finally saw the damn thing.It was a saber hilt. Silver, like most of them. It was laying innocently on the ground by the bike’s undamaged frame, as though it hadn’t just come rocketing from a mile away to take the Mandalorian out like a bomb.(Han steps in to help Luke get back into the saddle with the whole Din-situation.)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Han Solo, Din Djarin & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo
Series: finding the lost and losing the found [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090520
Comments: 51
Kudos: 887





	strumming in sand

**Author's Note:**

> still don't know shit about Space Feuds. Still begging your indulgence.

Luke seemed depressed.

And because Luke seemed depressed, Leia was agitated.

And because Leia was agitated, Han could find no peace in 12 parsecs around the present ship.

She had ideas. Namely ideas about marrying Luke off to some disgustingly wealthy, aging senator who could finance that school of his and would view his drama with indulgence. That was her first idea, and Han didn’t _dare_ say a damn thing about it.

The second idea was only slightly better. It involved locating an honest-to-God Mandalorian and beating the pulp out of him, then snatching what Han had figured out was the Mando-version of a crown from the guy’s head and beating him with that next.

Let it never be said that Leia Organa did not love her brother. But please, let Ben stop sending messages home where he mused on how Uncle Luke was, in effect, languishing under various trees, looking like he was going to cry at his piss-poor hammering skills, and drinking.

That last one was the big ‘oh fuck’ for Han.

Luke had never been much of a drinker. His fondness for bitterness was outweighed for his flare for obnoxious, novel drinks made out of weirder and weirder fruit. He’d always had a great sense of humor about intoxication—preferring to watch others get drunk off their asses and slowly slide down to the floor. But according to Ben, the situation was dire. Uncle Luke was taking straight shots.

All this over that damn Mandalorian. Yeesh. The guy sounded like a piece of work. A heart-breaker if nothing else. There was only one thing to do for it.

Han told Leia that he would go talk to Luke. She stood up on their bed and declared that the best idea he’d had since Ben.

Luke was depressed. Go figure.

Somehow, despite that, he managed to plaster on a smile for his students and to encourage them in their teetering-tottering Force ways. The smile edged towards painful when Han snuck into the back of the classroom.

Ben noticed him and lit up, but Han waved him back towards paying attention. Luke’s eyes said that they would talk later.

Look at it. It was a baby Yoda.

“His name is Grogu,” Luke said. “Grogu, thank you. You did good work today. And for that you’ve earned a—”

The babyest Yoda ever interrupted with the saddest noise in the galaxy. Luke stumbled on his words.

“Not yet,” he said. “But soon. I was thinking a gold star, whaddya say?”

Baby Yoda’s ears slipped slowly down the sides of his head and he turned away and toddled off, leaving Han and Luke by themselves in the shelter’s main study room.

Huh.

A depressed kid, too. Would you look at—woah, partner, no need to pull.

Luke hauled him to the back of the shelter where no kids could listen in on their conversation. And then he gave Han a big hug. Not a tight one. A long one. One suspiciously like someone saying ‘goodbye.’ Han’s first instinct was to squirm out of it and pat Luke’s shoulder from a respectable yard or so away, but that somehow just didn’t feel appropriate for the occasion.

“What’s goin’ on, pal?” he asked instead, awkwardly reciprocating the embrace.

Luke let him go before Han’s hand could land on his shoulder. He blew out a dismissive puff of air and threw his flesh-hand over his shoulder.

“Oh, you know, just breakin’ promises and leavin’ everything that matters half-finished, as per usual,” Luke said in that rare and hokey Tatooine twang of his.

Woof.

Right, okay. ‘Depressed’ here was a cover for ‘feeling like a failure.’ Noted. Hey, Leia? Han would like to switch places now.

“This is about the Mandalorian?” Han asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. No. Maybe so. I don’t know. I think it’s more about Yoda, to be honest.”

Or maybe _not_ already knowing the answer. Good ol’ Luke, always keeping everyone guessing.

“You talked to Yoda then?” Han nudged.

He followed Luke as he went to go dig through a pile of papers on the back counter. They looked like tests from the kids, judging from the handwriting.

“I talked to him, yeah,” Luke said. “And he—Han, he wants me to form an alliance with Mando.”

Oho. Now _that_ was interesting.

“An alliance? Between a Jedi and a Mandalorian?” he asked. “ _Why_? All those people do is fight—they actively seek out things to fight.”

“I know, I know,” Luke said. “And obviously, I’m not looking to conquer an empire or whatever. It’s not even that. It’s like—Yoda believes that there will be another jedi who turns on us. He seems to think that the Force is preparing for it, and that the kids might be in danger.”

“And he thinks that if you have an alliance with the Mandalorian, this _won’t_ happen?” Han asked.

“No,” Luke sighed. “It’s unclear. It’s Yoda, obviously it’s unclear—but I think what he means is that if something happens and no preparations are made for it, then we may lose these younglings. All of them. We might lose them and the way of the Jedi alongside them.”

Ah. Hey Leia? It’s not just depression. It’s an existential crisis. Just letting you know.

“Okay, so make friends with the Mandalorian then,” Han said. “Does he like kids?”

Luke scoffed.

“His Creed holds children as more important than anything else in the universe,” he said.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Luke started, then faltered. He stopped fussing with the exams and set them down back on the counter.

“The problem,” he started again, “Is that I’ve failed the Mandalorian.”

Yeah, okay; that’s a good start.

“How, dare I ask?” Han asked.

“I told him I would help him lose the Darksaber. And then Yoda told me it was impossible and I shouldn’t help him try to lose it—that would be, like, meddling or something, with the thing’s succession plans, if it’s sentient—which, you know what? It may as well be.”

That saber was the Mando-crown thing then?

Luke gave him deadeyes that said that this was a stupid question. Han put his hands up in innocence.

“It’s not your job to fix everyone’s problems, Luke,” he said.

“I gave my word,” Luke countered.

“And it’s still not your job,” Han said. “Mando will figure things out. And how do you know he’s disappointed, anyways? Them bucket heads got two feelings: rage and paid.”

“Not this one,” Luke said.

“Oh, so he’s _different_ ,” Han teased.

Luke’s glare this time was far, far less friendly. Han cleared his throat.

“Not a bad thing,” he added.

“Hold onto something for this. He’s funny—polite, even,” Luke said.

Han immediately groped for a stabilizing surface.

“I know,” Luke threw back at him over his shoulder. He started rummaging through the books lining the wall, reordering them and straightening their spines.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Han sniffed. “All of them Mandos are the same.”

Luke sighed. Han felt bad. He couldn’t stand this kind of silence.

“He’s Grogu’s father,” Luke admitted.

Hey, _what_? Y-

Yoda-Mando?

Luke, buddy, it was one thing to love your teacher, but another thing to—

“He’s human, you massive cock.”

Nevermind. Serious face back on. Go on.

“He’s human, was sent to collect a bounty on Grogu, and renegaded,” Luke said. “He stole him instead. Rescued him and decided to protect him, even from Imperial forces. Then, when he realized Grogu’s sensitivity towards the Force, he started seeking out somewhere where he would be safe. He’s willing to sacrifice his life for Grogu and has nearly fulfilled that sacrifice on multiple occasions, despite the fact that Grogu will become a Jedi.”

Woah, look, a rogue Mando. That was kinda neat.

“Han.”

What? It was. It was all sweet and shit. Who knew Mandos cared about anything besides being money?

“Han.”

Han got it, he got it. Luke was sweet on this Grogu’s daddy. It was bound to happen, what with all Luke’s father-issues.

“ _Han_ , _you piece of shit._ ”

Yes, dear?

“I will lop off both of your arms and then you’ll have to explain to your son why Uncle Luke snapped,” Luke deadpanned.

Fair. Han was shutting up now.

“Mando doesn’t feel the same,” Luke explained with an irritated glare. “And so it doesn’t matter. What matters is the kids. The alliance. If Mando can protect at least his own child, if not more of them, from whatever is coming, then whatever feelings I have on the matter are worth the sacrifice.”

Yeah, it probably was.

“Thanks, pal.”

“What’s with the tone? Don’t you want me to agree?” Han asked as Luke abandoned him for the back door into the courtyard.

He followed. The yard was filled with lines of laundry, which Luke began expertly plucking off the strings and folding.

“What is it that you _want_?” Han asked, grabbing for a line to lean on and nearly eating shit when it was far more slack than expected.

Luke just watched him. He and Leia shared this disdainful gaze. It alone could drill holes in bedrock. Luke just used it far, far less often.

“I _want_ to make up my broken promise,” he said. “I _want_ to form an alliance. But Mando doesn’t trust me anymore, I can sense it. He thinks that I take him on these winding, pointless journeys. And so he’s not sparing me the time of day outside of reports on Grogu.”

Okay, but that was also fair.

The slap of the laundry had no business being that sharp.

“If you’re not going to help, fuck off and send me Chewie,” Luke snapped.

Wow. Trading a guy for his own best friend, Luke? Han was his brother-in-law.

“Then be useful.”

“I don’t know how to be useful,” Han moaned. “Whaddya want me to do? Get ordained? Marry you two?”

Luke threw down the laundry and set his brow.

“I want you to help me find him,” he said fiercely. “And to help me help _him_ lose that saber.”

Han stared.

“I thought we weren’t losing the saber,” he said.

“Fuck it.”

“Luke? Luke, buddy? Bad idea. Remember Yoda?”

“Fuck. It.”

“You love Yoda.”

“My priority is to my students,” Luke said, whirling around in fury. “My priority is always their lives. And if this is what it takes, Han, then I’m willing to take the risk. Yoda will understand. And the saber knows if it will be lost or not, so if I make a solid effort—and _you_ help me—then Mando will know how far I’m willing to go. He will be amenable to an alliance. A real one. Not just the agreement that we have now.”

Oof. That sounded like a terrible move.

But what the hell? Why not?

“I’ve always wanted to hunt a Mandalorian,” Han shrugged.

“You’re going to WHAT?”

Good wife. Happy wife. Loving ball of—

“HAN SOLO.”

“Your brother is desperate,” Han hissed in his claimed closet. He turned the holo-transceiver’s volume down.

“That’s a Mandalorian,” Leia growled. “Remember the last Mandalorian you tangled with?”

Yes. As though it was yesterday.

“So you’re chasing another one??”

“Luke seems to think that he’s noble or some shit.”

“Luke’s in _love with him_.”

She could say that again.

“The good news is that I think we’re approaching ‘in rage with him,’ too,” Han said. “Yoda told him to make an alliance and now he’s getting mad about it.”

Leia’s everything went slack.

“I’m sorry, Yoda said what?” she said.

Han bounced his eyebrows.

“You heard me,” he said. “Should be interesting.”

“Yoda, I’m going to dig you up and—”

Loving wife. Patient wife. Tender ball of—

“You keep singing that to me and I’ll be burying _you_ next.”

Skywalkers, man. Each was the same as the next.

“If he’s terrible, then I’ll talk Luke out of it,” Han whispered. “I think he just needs a little disillusionment, Leia. And you know how he is about Yoda’s word.”

Leia groaned from the bottom of her soul.

“Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed,” she said.

Copy that, Princess.

How hard could it be to find a bucket head, huh?

Impossible. That’s how.

Han was losing his mind here. They were four planets in and now Luke was talking some shit about going to talk to a bastard who SURELY was supposed to be dead. Surely. If there was any justice in any galaxy in the known universe, he would be dead.

“Listen,” Luke said.

“I’m listening all right,” Han cackled. “I’m listening so well. I’ve never listened this well in my life, Luke Skywalker.”

“The universe hates us,” Luke said without even a lick of humor. “This is how it is. Boba Fett—”

“How _dare_ you speak that name. Call him Bastard, Greatest, of the Highest Order or nothing all at,” Han snapped.

Luke’s right eyebrow twitched.

“Bastard, Greatest,” he amended, “Is the only one who D—Mando tells where he is and where he’s going.”

Han stared.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“Not important,” Luke said. “Bastard, Greatest has a throne. We’ll go to him.”

“God, you’ve got it _bad_ , kid,” Han said.

AHAHAHAHAHA.

“Han.”

WHAAHAHAHA.

“Ignore him.”

“I would love to,” Fett said.

Han would wring his fucking neck if only this sharpshooter would lower that gun.

“Where is Djarin?” Luke asked.

Fett cocked out a hip and crossed his arms. Even the sharpshooter seemed smug.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Fett asked.

“I have news on his son,” Luke said.

“So send a holo-message,” the sharpshooter said.

“ _Sensitive_ news,” Luke shot her way.

To Han’s surprise, both Fett and the sharpshooter perked up. It was almost like they were alarmed. But Fett’s alarm was swiftly replaced by suspicion.

“You’re getting awfully close to the Mand’alor, Jedi,” he drawled.

Luke held his ground.

“He’s the most respectable example of your people I’ve ever encountered,” he said coolly.

The gargantuan asshole loomed over him for long enough that Han’s hands started to itch for his blaster. Then Fett huffed and uncrossed his arms.

“He’s on Tatooine,” he said.

“Why would you tell me this?” Luke asked firmly. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because,” Fett said, “The Mand’alor has given orders that your messages will be passed onto him.”

Wait. Wait. _What_?

“No one likes it, for the record,” Fett added. “But it appears that he trusts you, Jedi. So, I would recommend that you think long and hard about what that means before you pull any more of your ridiculous political stunts.”

Holy shit. Holy, motherfucking shit.

“That was easy enough,” Luke said, strapping himself back into the co-pilot’s seat. “It won’t be hard to find him. I know Tatooine like the back of my—Han. Han? _Han_.”

What? Did he say something? Han was busy trying to cope with that fact that Luke’s whatever-it-was was reciprocated by King Buckethead of all the Buckets.

“Han, why exactly did you think I was so upset to have let him down?” Luke asked.

Han didn’t know anymore. He’d maybe just figured that Luke had latched onto King Bucket the way he latched onto most people: without care for their opinion of him. But this guy actually respected Luke?

Maybe they should get married after all.

“Please stop. Both you and Leia. Please. It’s embarrassing. Set the course for Tatooine.”

Tatooine was hot and dry, the way it always was, and that was worsened by the fact that Luke’s Mando-boyfriend had been witnessed trekking his way out to the hottest and driest expanse of it all.

‘Towards the mountains,’ the villagers said with fear in their eyes. ‘Are you going to stop him?’

Well, apparently they were now, given Luke’s alarm and sudden pace.

Han shouted at his stupid, flailing cloak that not all of them were spring chickens anymore, but that, as per usual, didn’t slow Luke so much as a lick. Han had to stop and gasp and wheeze every couple of yards until they got to a garage to rent some speeders.

The bikes made life way easier. And the guy at the garage was even more helpful. He’d rented a bike to Luke’s Mando-boyfriend, he said. He’d done it before. Apparently, Mando-boyfriend frequented Tatooine for his bounties. He had a favorite person to rent from who allegedly wasn’t this guy, but the man was determined to snatch his favor away from the first. He explained that they could follow the trail left by MB’s bike, since it was the first one he’d rented out that morning.

And so into the desert wasteland they went.

Han hated this place.

MB had taken his bike way out into the middle of nowhere, which was a bad sign in Han’s very professional, highly esteemed opinion. Luke said that this was in line with MB’s character.

That planted a seed that turned into a rock in Han’s stomach as they approached the mountain. It was huge. There was a tunnel of bones leading out from one of the caves. The sand seemed to rumble and growl under their feet.

“Surely he’s here somewhere,” Luke said, wandering this way and that through the sand, doing his Force-feeling thing.

Han swallowed and stared at the mountain.

He knew _exactly_ where Mando-boyfriend was. And it sucked _ass_.

It took no time at all to figure out the brilliant (not) scheme Mando had come up with in the absence of another brain to help him work through things.

He’d gone out and found a dragon.

And not just _any_ dragon, no. A three-headed one.

Lovely. Beautiful. Han was approving this marriage immediately. This Mandalorian and Luke deserved each other.

When the first dragon’s head exploded from the hillside, Han grabbed Luke’s hood to keep him from launching himself towards it. But when the second head emerged, Han’s heels were so sunken into the sand, he was nearly knee-deep into it; he had to give into the inevitable and let Luke go.

And away the kid went, sprinting through the sand like the dust-rat that he was meant to be.

Leia was going to murder Han if he went and got his dumbass eaten.

AGH.

He gave chase.

The Mandalorian in question was nowhere to be seen. And that was the only reason that Han was able to catch up to Luke, who, at that point, appeared to be entering full-meltdown. He spun around and around a short ways away from the mountain’s base and grabbed Han’s shoulders when he finally caught up.

Luke shrieked at him that that thing had _eaten_ MB.

It wasn’t a great look, this whole situation, Han had to admit that. Although, to be equally fair, it certainly meant that Luke’s problem was over and done with.

You couldn’t make an alliance with dead allies--as Leia loved to say with a knife in her hand.

He reached back to try to steady Luke enough to get him to turn back, but right at that moment, one of the ship-sized dragon heads coughed.

Its cough sounded like an explosion and Han and Luke looked up just in time to duck as a hunk of rock went hurtling past them into the sand. Bits of it broke off on the way, and those scattered around them haphazardly.

Han stood up and finally declared this mission far too hazardous for normal humans and Jedis alike. He hauled Luke up only for that ridiculous cloak of his to snatch itself out of Han’s fingers not a moment later. He could only stand by in furious shock as Luke scrambled away towards one of the pieces of rock.

He was wise, sometimes, Luke. They weren’t bits of rock at all. One was a soaked glove. Another appeared to be a shoulder plate. It had an engraving on it.

Luke flung it aside and went crashing towards the biggest hunk of rock a good hundred yards away and fell to his knees at its side when he reached it. He started digging and pulling, and Han hurried over to help him free the guy from his sand misery.

It appeared that they were on a time-crunch now, what with the screeching going on overhead.

MB didn’t need their help, though.

One moment, Luke’s hands were groping for his disgusting, slimy cape and the next a whole, gleaming helmet erupted from the sand.

Han was floored.

Mando threw himself up in a cloud of dirt. He said not a damn word, so overwhelming was his apparent thirst for revenge.

He was trudging off back the way he’d been violently projected before anyone could get ahold of his armor or clothes. Luke took off after him, once again, but Han was fucking _old_. Maybe not Yoda-old, but sure as shit too old for whatever this was.

No one cared.

_Rude._

He struggled up, fell once, fell twice, and then managed to rejoin the chase.

He was twenty yards behind when he saw Luke finally give in to his baser instincts and body-slam Mando into a depression in the dune on the left. Both of them went down. Han arrived to their wrestling pit in time to catch Luke shouting ‘THIS AIN’T IT, KID’ at full volume. Mando didn’t seem to be able to hear him—either that or he didn’t care.

He shoved Luke off, shuffled up and took off again.

Luke followed suite and tackled him the second he got within range.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

Rinse—

“WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?” Luke exploded. “That THING is going to KILL YOU.”

Only then did MB seem find it in himself to stop and actually register who Luke was. His helmet somehow appeared…surprised?

How did he do that?

“What are you doing here?” MB asked with an even more shocking clipped tone.

“It doesn’t matter, what are YOU doing?” Luke snarled. “Trying to die?”

“It has my _spear_ ,” Mando snapped.

“Why the fuck did you throw a spear at it?” Luke shrieked, clutching at his hair.

“It wasn’t _supposed_ to take the spear,” Mando shouted back. “It was supposed to take the—”

“You’re trying to feed it the SABER, YOU MORON?”

“DO I HAVE ANY OTHER CHOICE?”

Wh—

Wh—

“YES. GO BURY IT.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just _bury it_. Yeah. Like _that’s_ worked out for me.”

“You tried??”

“OF COURSE, I TRIED.”

Was—was it allowed for a Mandalorian to be this expressive? It felt like it wasn’t allowed.

“JUST ACCEPT IT,” Luke roared. “Just, like _everyone else,_ just ACCEPT that you’re Mand’alor, okay?”

“ _Never_ ,” MB said in a furious, low voice. “You stay here, I’m getting my spear.”

He shoulder-checked Luke hard as he shoved past him, which Luke refused to take lying down. He whirled around and threw himself onto Mando’s shoulders, trying to latch his arms around his neck.

The guy flung his torso forward and fixed that right quick.

He kept trudging. Luke flopped over in the sand and grabbed ahold of Mando’s ankle before he could escape. Luke got sworn at for his trouble, which only encouraged him curl his whole body into a tight, stubborn ball around MB’s foot.

MB apparently decided ‘to hell with it, he’ll get tired eventually,’ and set himself on course to drag Luke’s obnoxious ass all the way back with him into that dragon’s lair.

It was mesmerizing. Leia was going to sob with laughter when Han called her after this.

Mando strode into the dragon’s cave. Luke, whose dignity _did_ have boundaries, got up and tried to go with him but was threatened at gun point right outside the cave’s mouth. Han intervened to grab Luke’s shoulders and manhandle him out of the way so that Mando could go do his Mando-thing.

As far as Han could tell, he was going to do it anyways. There was no point in putting Luke’s life in danger in the meantime.

Luke, however,, was furious. He got up in Han’s face and started shouting about how the guy was going to die and so on and so on, but a quarter of an hour later, they both went silent on account of the choking sound’s reappearance.

Mando burst out of the cave at a full run with zero explanation and dragged them forward in a sprint. He grabbed his lost glove and shoulder plate on the way back to his bike.

The ground-shaking scream behind them helped Han’s brain shift modes from ‘we’re doing what now?’ to ‘flee.’

It had been ages since he’d fallen into a bike seat that fast. He was pulling up on the joystick before Luke was even properly strapped in next to him.

He felt a little giddy a good mile away when Mando’s bike way ahead suddenly spun violently off-course and crashed into the dunes. The dragon was long behind them. It was safe enough to pull over and hop off to make sure the guy hadn’t exploded into bits.

Luke stood over the pile of metal and sand with narrow eyes. He appeared seconds from tapping his foot. And that was when Han finally saw the damn thing.

It was a saber hilt. Silver, like most of them. It was laying innocently on the ground by the bike’s undamaged frame, as though it hadn’t just come rocketing from a mile away to take the Mandalorian out like a bomb.

That beskar was really something, wasn’t it? It wasn’t even dented from the impact.

“How’s that workin’ out for you, Din Djarin?” Luke spat at the sand. “Was it worth it?”

Oh look, Mando had a full name after all.

The poor sap groaned.

The Mandalorian (Alias: Din Djarin. Alias: Mando-Boyfriend. Alias: MB for short) was an incredible human being, Han decided.

Leia would have paid any amount of money to keep him in their employment if he wasn’t clearly violently opposed to having anything to do with anyone of note.

He didn’t know who Han was and he didn’t care. He thought Leia was just Luke’s sister. He couldn’t understand why Han was out here with Luke and most important of all, he shook the shit out of Luke, demanding to know why he’d left the kids unattended.

So that was fun.

Even more fun was when Luke tried to shake him back and got next to nowhere. His rage started to die down after that, which was great because Mando’s stayed right where it was.

He informed Luke that just because he couldn’t help him lose the saber didn’t mean that he, Mando-Din Djarin, couldn’t lose it on his own.

He was great at losing things, look at how many battles he’d lost.

Han looked, but he had to admit, he wasn’t seeing a whole lot of them. Also: why hadn’t anyone heard of this man? Clearly he was some kind of reckless, undefeated warrior. The man knew about the sand dragons, he claimed, because he’d been eaten by one before.

You know, as everyone is.

“Yoda says that you can’t lose it, so you can’t lose it,” Luke snapped.

“Why don’t we do this? You listen to _your_ bog-cat and I listen to mine,” Mando said.

“No, you know why? Because I live with both of them,” Luke said. “You could be killed doing this.”

“Then I’ll be killed,” Mando said. “That’s not of your concern.”

“It is when you’re my student’s father, Din,” Luke said. “He’d be devastated.”

Finally, there was a pause. Han felt his eyebrows shoot up at Mando’s silence.

“You didn’t even think about that, did you?” Luke accused him. “Your actions aren’t just about you. You have to think about your—”

“Say it,” Mando said tonelessly.

Luke’s mouth closed and his brow furrowed hard.

“Your people,” he spat.

Mando’s half-cape moved slightly with the desert wind. Han wondered if maybe he should go over there and shove those two apart a little. Things were getting a little hotter than they needed to be.

He cleared his throat.

“I cannot protect Grogu when I have the attention of every Mandalorian in the universe trained on this saber,” MB said. “Word is spreading. I have to get rid of it before it’s too late to beg it off as a rumor.”

“Or you could accept it,” Luke said. “And accept the responsibility. You’re a better leader than you think, Din. Your values are strong. _You’re_ strong. I know it’s scare—”

“I have no fear of responsibility,” Mando said before Luke could finish. “And unlike, you, Skywalker, I know my place in this universe: this isn’t it.”

Luke’s shoulders came down.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

Mando dropped the saber to his side.

“It is my job to preserve the ways before me,” he said. “It is my job to keep the practices alive. I am a protector. Not a ruler. Not a leader. Bo-Katan or another will come for the saber. And when they come, I will yield.”

H—

AHA.

AHAHAHAHA.

“Wh—is he laughing?”

LOOK AT THIS IDIOT.

Luke sighed.

No, Luke, look at him. LOOK at him.

“Han, please. We’re trying to talk this through.”

“You think you can just yield this shit?” Han cackled. “You think—oh god. You’re so sweet. You’re _so_ cute. Oh, honey, bring that can in here for a hug. Come here.”

The spear from earlier found its way to the center of Han’s chest.

“I think not,” Mando said.

“I’m sorry about him,” Luke said. “He’s just here to fly the ship.”

Oh??? Was Han now? That was his only purpose? Amazing. Whatever, children. Sit down and shut up.

“MB, my friend, if you think you want to lose that thing so bad, why don’t you give it to me?” Han hummed, holding out an open palm.

“MB?” Mando repeated. “That is not my name.”

“Here, give it here,” Han said. “I’ll take it off your hands, no problem.”

That helmet seemed to be squinting.

“You’re not a Mandalorian,” Mando said.

“Psh. Does it matter?” Han asked. “Gimme.”

“No. And yes. It does matter,” Mando said.

“Oh, so there are rules now?” Han teased. “Well fine. Who are you going to give it to, then? Who’s safe?”

There was a long, long silence. Mando looked down at the saber.

“I…don’t know,” he said.

“But surely a _dragon_ is safe?” Han asked.

“If it was inside the dragon, then only a great warrior could obtain it,” Mando said with conviction.

“Oh, so someone like you,” Han pointed out.

Aha. Gotcha, fucker. Look at that visor, awwwww.

“Someone besides me,” Mando defended.

“Right, so someone who could fight a dragon or who had the kind of diplomatic sensitivity to get a Jedi to tell them where they’d hidden it otherwise,” Han grinned. “ _That_ kind of someone?”

He cackled as Mando realized in horror the hole he’d dug for himself.

“You’re impossible,” the guy said miserably to the saber, “I don’t want you.”

Aw, you poor, poor chump.

“Boba Fett will take it,” Han pointed out. “I’m sure he’d love nothing less.”

“He won’t,” Mando said. “I tried that already. Nor will Bo-Katan. Or any of the others. They say it is rightfully mine and they do not wish to engage in combat with me to obtain it.”

“Yeah, pal, they’re scared you’re gonna kick their asses,” Han said. “So suck it up. It’s yours, now. Get back on the bike.”

They headed back toward the village.

Luke called Mando’s ship the ‘Rust Bucket’ and just seeing it made Han want to weep. He felt the need for a mop and some grease, if only to give the thing the appearance of functionality.

Mando’s spear trained itself on him even at the suggestion, however, so Han decided to bite his tongue for now.

MB agreed to meet them back at the school. That was as far as his patience would allow him to get right now. And that was plenty for Han.

If Mando needed a nap and some alone time, so be it. What was far more important for Han in this moment was tricking _Luke_ into taking a nap, so that he could call Leia and lay out the entirely of this complicated swamp of problems. What they all needed here was a brain, and no one in this three-man show had one. Not even the Rust Bucket.

Luke was lured successfully into sleeping about an hour into the flight. Han called Leia the second he was sure her brother wouldn’t be waking up to interrupt them.

He laid it all out for her and reveled in how she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

“I’ll give Mando this much,” she said. “He’s certainly humble. But Yoda’s never wrong. That saber belongs to him.”

Correct.

“Even if that means he spends the next half of a century trying to lose it. Mandalorians appear to be doing fine with an absent leader anyways, don’t you think?”

Han honestly had no idea. They were a rare folk. He wasn’t sure that most of them would even notice that their leadership had shifted until it had changed twice over.

“Maybe Luke’s right. Maybe he should stop all this avoidance and try to be Mand’alor,” Leia thought out loud. “I mean, who knows. He might be good at it. And if he’s friendly with Luke, then chances are he’ll be friendly with others like him--you know, like us. That would be a nice change.”

Very true. Very fair. Very wise.

“I look forward to meeting him,” Leia said. “Tell him that I offer my services in instruction in diplomacy.”

“Will do,” Han said. “See you soon.”

They touched down outside the school. Luke rushed off to go check on his students and staff. Han waited around until the Rust Bucket shuddered down nearby. He stood up out of his slouch and started to make his way that way but was distracted by the screech and chirp of a stumbling ball of cloth that passed him.

It was the baby Yoda.

He was making terrible time. Han stood back and let him hurry his way over to where Mando’s ramp had come down. The man himself somehow looked more exhausted than before, but something about him changed when he caught wind of the squeaking headed his way. He started moving towards the sound.

He met the kid halfway and swept him off his tiny feet, and the Baby Yoda kid was delighted. He cooed and grabbed at MB’s helmet with munchkin claws.

“No luck,” MB sighed. “The next plan is to throw it _really_ hard.”

Baby Yoda giggled.

Han hung back until Mando noticed him. He stooped and set his kid down and waved him ahead.

“Thank you for your assistance,” MB said tinnily when the kid was out of earshot. “It was not wanted, but in the end, it has been helpful. I think you are right. I can’t avoid this any longer. The saber is mine to deal with until it is rightfully won.”

He—he was agreeing? With Han? Without being punched?

Wh—

“Who are you?” Han blurted out.

MB’s helmet felt like it was squinting again.

“I’m a Mandalorian,” he said.

“Yeah, obviously but like, who _are_ you?” Han pressed him.

He got only silence in return. That was unhelpful and not Han’s problem.

“My wife is a senator,” Han redirected. “If you’re going to be Mand’alor, she thinks you need to learn diplomacy. She’s willing to help if you’re interested.”

“That is kind of her.”

Buddy, you have no idea what Leia’s definition of ‘diplomacy’ is.

“You know,” Han thought out loud. “She pointed out to me on the way over that you could also just, like, not discharge your duties. Mandalorians don’t need a ruler. They’re smart folks.”

He watched as the helmet’s visor lowered.

“This is not the Way,” Mando said. “To not discharge the duties is to be a coward. To have avoided them for this long is, too. Thank you for your guidance. Skywalker is lucky to have such a wise companion.”

…actually no, please do become Mand’alor. No one ever called Han ‘wise,’ and that, if nothing else, was the mark of a future great leader.

“I like you,” Han decided. “If you ever need a pilot for whatever it is you spend your time doing, give me a shout, you hear?”

The helmet seemed to perk up.

“Thank you. If you are ever in need of a Mandalorian, please do reach out,” Mando said.

Oh, Han would, don’t you worry a hair on your head, kid.


End file.
